So thou art come again, old black-winged night, br Like an huge bird, between us and the sun, br Hiding, with out-stretched form, the genial light; br And still, beneath thine icy bosom's dun br And cloudy plumage, hatching fog-breathed blight br And embryo storms, and crabbéd frosts, that shun br Day's warm caress. The owls from ivied loop br Are shrieking homage, as thou cowerest high; br Like sable crow pausing in eager stoop br On the dim world thou gluttest thy clouded eye, br Silently waiting latest time's fell whoop, br When thou shalt quit thine eyrie in the sky, br To pounce upon the world with eager claw, br And tomb time, death, and substance in thy maw.